


A Light Illuminated (Calling You Home)

by LadyLondonderry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Farmer Louis Tomlinson, M/M, Outing, Scandal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-01 17:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16289171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry
Summary: Louis has inherited a farm from an uncle he barely knew. It's not in the best state, and he's facing the reality of having to let some of the workers go if profits don't drastically improve. It's not a nice idea.Then Harry comes into the picture. A prince in need of a place to lay low for a while. It's a little awkward, and a lot unconventional, but he's paying well and Louis can't turn down the opportunity.If only he didn't give Louis such conflicting feelings.





	A Light Illuminated (Calling You Home)

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Please note the following fic has an entirely inaccurate portrayal of how farms are actually run. Everything I know, I learned from The Archers. In other news, if you listen to The Archers, hit me up! We should be friends. I love radio programmes for old people. The drama is just too good.

Out of all the career options Louis had considered while growing up, becoming a farmer had never been one of them. 

That being said, it had never really occurred to him that he would end up at the age of 21, barely out of University with a business degree that he isn’t sure why he got, working on a zero hour contract stocking shelves at a Tesco Express, so. 

It wasn’t like anything was really going to plan.

He’d been living with his boyfriend Michael in a tiny flat in Leeds, and at least that was nice. Michael was a good kisser even if his mouth was weirdly lukewarm, and they had started talking about things like  _ meeting the parents _ and  _ getting a cockatoo, _ so clearly it was starting to get serious. 

Then he got the phone call.

An uncle he barely remembered - Great Uncle James, to be exact - had just passed away, and left Louis everything. Louis hadn’t the slightest clue why - surely Uncle James had closer relatives somewhere? Someone who actually knew what he owned? His last name?

He could have sold it. Even thinks from time to time that he he still should. It would have been a smart thing to do, certainly. But it was a small farm with a group of loyal workers who would have suffered, because no one except corporations seemed willing to buy at the time, and Louis just… he didn’t want to do that to them. A business degree meant he knew what it was like, and what corporations cut the corners on to turn a profit. He felt guilty at the thought of selling it. He had no idea how farms worked or what farmers really  _ did _ . A farm that he had never even set foot on before, and he couldn’t bear the thought of letting it go. 

It was a ridiculous decision fueled by his heart and his need for change, but at least he wouldn’t look back with regret years later wondering what he’d missed out on.

— 

“Niall,” Louis says, rubbing his temple with one hand as he holds the phone with the other. “I need a drink. Please tell me you’re going to be in town soon. I need someone to bitch to who isn’t going to worry that I’m about to fire them.”

“As your closest, most wonderful and loyal childhood friend I would jump at that opportunity,” Niall says, his voice going tinny over the phone for a moment. He sounds like he’s jogging. “But unfortunately I think it’s going to be a bit. Job’s a bit hectic at the moment and I get the feeling it’s going to be a lot of long nights for the next few weeks.”

“Nooooooo,” Louis groans, laying his face down on the desk. It’s a ridiculously large wooden desk that used to belong to his uncle, and that apparently was used mostly to store miniature cow statues in. Many of them are still there.

“Come on Niall,” Louis says. “Pretty please? What if I come up to London for the day?”

“Tempting,” says Niall. “Except we’re in virtual lockdown at the moment. You can call me for, oh, twenty minutes at a time? But it’s all hands on deck and unfortunately, you know me. The best of the best. Can’t hire better than Niall Horan, no sir!”

“You’re useless,” Louis says. “Absolutely useless. What could possibly keep you so busy? What popstar is having a twenty-four seven meltdown? You’re canceled as my best friend.”

“Someday when we’re old and grey I’ll let you into all my secrets,” Niall says. Louis can practically  _ see _ the smug look on his face.

“Right,” says Louis. “Well you’re still canceled. When I end up homeless because the farm goes bankrupt, I won’t even call to see if you have a couch I can sleep on. Goodbye, cruel Niall.”

“Wait,” Niall says. “Your farm’s in trouble? Do you need money?”

“I  _ need _ to have cows that are producing quality milk,” Louis says, letting out a sigh. “Short of that… I’m not at the point of accepting handouts yet, but honestly it’s not far away. We’ll be pretty set by next year, if my five year plan works, but for right now we’re on the edge and  _ some  _ of my workers are badgering me for a raise. Not that they don’t deserve it, mind you - well, except Logan. Logan doesn’t do shit - but we’re barely keeping out of the red as it is. Unless I can find some cash hidden under the mattress somewhere I’m a little worried we’re not going to make it through summer.” 

He opens a drawer, is faced with a number of porcelain spotted cows, and closes it again.

“Sorry, I know you said you were busy. This is why I need a drink.”

“No,” says Niall from the other end of the line. He pauses for a minute, like he’s thinking. “Listen, I do have to go, but hit me up when you  _ are _ desperate. My current job includes room and board so my bank account is pretty well off, I’m always up for helping out my oldest mate, even if he did cancel me.”

Louis snorts.

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks Niall, go save the world. Or style a pop star’s hair. Whatever your job is.”

Niall laughs, loud and buoyant. “Will do, Tommo. Keep me updated!”

Louis hangs up and puts the phone down. It feels good at least being able to spill it all to someone. Five years ago when he took over the position, the farm wasn’t turning any kind of profit - it wasn’t so much as breaking even. Louis knew - and honestly still knows - next to nothing about farming, but he’s been learning as he goes. He still has barely seen his own herd of cows, or chicken coop, but he’s honestly too busy to start actually learning about the hands-on bits now. His Great Uncle James had been paying people out of his own pocket, and by the time he passed away he was pretty broke himself. Louis couldn’t tell you what a combine harvester was, or how to make sure chickens weren’t laying double-yolk eggs, but with a business degree he figured he might be able to at least get their finances in order. Learning about how the farm worked involved more googling, spreadsheets and time schedules than he ever thought he’d have to deal with, but at least a few of the workers (Liam. He means Liam.) were willing to be patient with him while he waded through learning how everything ran.

That much certainly couldn’t be said for Michael, who didn’t even last a week after they moved into the farmhouse. Louis honestly wasn’t that bothered.

He has a plan. He’s spoken to the experts and looked at converting to an arable soil method and changing the feed of the dairy herd and a long-term evaluation of the pigs, and he’s looking to turn an actual profit by the end of this but that won’t be until next year at the earliest, and until then… Well, until then Logan had better shut his face because Louis knows the value of loyal farmhands but goddamn he is  _ not _ above letting Logan know exactly how little he matters.

— 

**Niall:** _ Hey do you still want that drink _ _  
_ **Niall:** _ I’m calling you in ten minutes, pick up the phone _

_ 1 Missed Call _

**Niall:** _Louisssssssss come on I’ve got the ANSWER_ __  
**Niall:** _Are you ignoring me because you’ve severed our bosom buddy bond_ _  
_**Niall:** __Because that’s not fair

**Louis:** _ I just woke up you aboslute WANKER give me a fucking MINUTE _ _  
_ **Louis:** _ Who tf is like “im gonna cll u in ten minutes” wtf kind of creeper did u get that from _

**Niall:** _It’s called being polite!!!! I was texting you in a meeting!!_

_ 1 Missed Call _

**Niall:** _ Now you’re doing it on purpose you wanker _ _  
_ **Niall:** _ I swear to god Louis I’m gonna murder you if you lose out on this opportunity _

This time when Niall calls Louis swipes to answer. “I don’t see what is so important that it couldn’t have waited until I was properly awake. Who even has a meeting at…  _ five thirty in the morning?” _

_ “Very serious people who are kind enough to provide coffee,”  _ Niall says from somewhere that Louis presumes is in London. He’s not even sure where Niall is at this point if he’s perfectly honest.  _ “I have a proposition for you, and I’m on my way over now so you’d better not be busy.” _

“I  _ run _ a  _ farm,” _ Louis groans, throwing an arm over his face. He’s not even gotten out of bed yet. He can only faintly hear the sounds of workers sloshing through the mud outside, likely headed for the cows at this time in the morning. 

_ “I know you do,” _ Niall says, sounding totally unsympathetic to Louis’s plea.  _ “Which is why you are going to meet me at The Red Lion in… four and a half hours, and if you’re not there I’m going straight to your house.” _

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” Louis moans. Louis is not a morning person. “Why on earth would you call me  _ now _ just to tell me to do something in four hours? You’re mental. And you’re paying for my pint.”

Niall lets out an audible snort.  _ “Fine,” _ he says.  _ “I’m saving your arse  _ and _ paying for a pint. You’ll owe me after this.” _

Niall hangs up before Louis can think of anything intelligent to say back. In his defence he is still at least partially asleep. He squints at the phone screen and the terrible, horrible, no good very bad time of 5:38 and then flings it to the other side of the bed. His alarm doesn’t go off until  _ seven _ for Christ’s sake. This is a problem for Later Louis, because This Louis is going back to sleep.

— 

“Okay,” Louis says. “What is this mystery genius plan?”

Niall sits back. He has a thick folder of papers in front of him, which makes him look much more serious than he ever did when they were in sixth form avoiding Maths and smoking behind the football pitch. “I’ve found you…” he pauses to build tension. Louis rolls his eyes. “A boarder.”

Caught off-guard, Louis snorts into his pint glass and has to set it down with a thump, coughing up the beer that’s gone up his nose. “Your  _ genius plan _ is for me to become a  _ bed and breakfast?” _

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Niall says. “My genius plan is for you to become a safehouse.”

Louis frowns. (He wipes the beer off his face). “Explain.”

“My… client,” Niall hedges. “Needs a place to lay low for a while, avoid the spotlight. He needs somewhere where he’s not constantly under pressure to fix things. He’s also willing to pay an  _ insane  _ amount of money to stay there.”

“What’d he fuck up?” Louis asks. He’s sceptical. Any rich know-it-all celeb who wants to stay at a farm in the middle of nowhere has clearly never been on a farm, and even if he’s just rooming there, there’s definitely going to be complaints that Louis doesn’t own, like, a Keurig. Or a microwave. He does need to buy a microwave.

“I’d love to tell you that, actually.” Niall slides the folder across the table. “As soon as you sign this non-disclosure agreement.”

“What the  _ fuck,” _ Louis says. 

Niall hands him a pen.

“I’m serious, Lou. They’re a big deal and I know you’re good for it but if it gets out that I told anyone they’d have my head and I’d be busking on the Underground by Wednesday.”

Louis levels Niall with a look that he hopes conveys how unimpressed he is. “There’s no way your client is this big,” he says. “And I am doing this entirely to humour you.” He takes the packet and looks through, scribbling initials on all the lines that Niall had apparently already circled in red. “What, are they a footballer? I can’t imagine you doing security for a footballer, you’re smaller than any of them. Ooh, is it someone in film? Are you a bodyguard for someone on  _ Strictly?” _

Niall takes back the packet and flips through it for all the signatures before shuffling it all back into his bag on the seat next to him. He takes a drink of his pint. “What do you know about the royal family?”

“That… they don’t go on  _ Strictly _ very often?” Louis asks. “I don’t know, Niall. Everyone knows about the royal family. Did some earl somewhere have a sex scandal?”

Niall lowers his voice, even though the pub is all but deserted at this time of the morning. “Let’s just say Harry Styles needs somewhere to lay low for a while.”

“What the  _ fuck,” _ Louis says. “You’re  _ shitting  _ me.”

“He needs somewhere to stay for an indeterminate amount of time - and will definitely pay more than enough to keep your farm going for, well, I’d say the next five years at least.”

_ “What the fuck, Niall.” _

Prince Harry Styles, darling of the British people and second in line for the throne when his parents step down. Nobody this side of the Atlantic  _ doesn’t _ know who Harry Styles is. 

Louis leans over his pint. The table isn’t that large to start with. They’re only about six inches apart. “Niall,” he hisses. “Niall. Did he  _ kill someone?” _

Niall snorts. “Harry couldn’t hurt a rabbit. I’ve seen him flail a bit with flies, but I’m pretty sure he’d faint on sight if he ever actually attended the fox hunts his fellow aristocrats are so fond of.”

Louis stares at Niall. “Wait,” he says, just beginning to put the pieces together. “You work security for the  _ royal family?” _

Niall shrugs. “I’m good at what I do,” he says. 

“Niall.”

“Louis.”

“Niall, I’ve known you since we started infant school together.”

“This is true.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this.”

Niall gestured to the bag where the NDA was sticking out. “Do you see this shit, Lou? I can’t exactly go around shouting it.”

“I am never paying for your pint again,” Louis says. 

“Yes you are. Because you’re going to take Prince Harry on, and then you’re going to be _comfortably well-off_ _forever_ , and then you’ll owe me. You’ll say, _‘thank god for my good friend Niall. I do owe him a lot. I’m terribly grateful for him, and will buy him lots of pints.”_

“Wait, I haven’t said I’m actually doing this,” Louis argues. “You’ve just sprung this on me!”

“No, I called you like six hours ago. That’s not springing shit.”

“I don’t know how I feel about a member of royalty staying on my farm. It’s not exactly the height of luxury. I would need to get a television!”

“You don’t need to get cable.” Niall rolls his eyes. “He has a laptop like a normal person. Plus Netflix and Hulu. The fancy subscriptions where you can watch in 4K. As long as you have working plumbing I think he’ll survive. Honestly he might even be grateful to be away from, shall we say, civilized society.”

Louis wants to argue that he’s very civilized, but he also just said that he doesn’t have a television. “Would I need to buy a Keurig?”

Niall snorts. “You need to buy one of those anyway. It’ll make your farm men or whatever they’re called a lot happier, trust me. But no, seriously. Do you have an extra room? Because that’s enough. This is the deal of a lifetime, Lou, and he’s honestly a great guy who landed himself in some shit and needs a place to hide out for a while. You in? Because you should be.”

“Are you a salesman now too?” Louis asks. “Can I have some time to think it over? This is kind of, like, a huge thing. I dunno.”

“You have until the end of our pub hangout,” Niall says. “And I’ve just finished my pint. This round’s on you.”

— 

Louis says yes. 

He says yes because Logan texts him while he’s sharing a basket of chips with Niall and it’s a stupid whiny text asking for a raise that Louis can’t afford, and he’s still fairly sure he’s going to try to get Logan gone ASAP but his other workers do deserve better, and he wants to be able to give them better. Liam and Greg for instance, who arrive at five in the morning to work with the cows, deserve substantially more than Louis is able to pay them.

NIall grins like he knew all along that Louis was going to say yes. Louis scowls.

“Can you get a room ready by tomorrow?” Niall asks, tapping away on his phone. “Harry says he’s very grateful, by the way. And that he can buy you a Keurig if you want.”

“I don’t want the Prince of England to buy me a bloody Keurig,” Louis snaps. He’s still in the middle of trying to send a text to Logan that doesn’t come off as  _ get off my property and leave my chickens alone. _

“He also wants to know if there’s something he can do to help out around the farm,” Niall says, reading off the screen. 

Louis snorts. “That’ll be the day,” he says. 

“Just… be nice,” Niall says. “Don’t judge him before you get to know him, okay?”

Louis gives him a sceptical look. “Right,” he says. “Whatever you say.”

Niall looks like he doesn’t believe him.

— 

Prince Harry is set to arrive two days after that lunch with Niall at the pub.

Apparently he’s serious about wanting to help out, as Niall texts him a few more times over that period. As Louis himself does little actual work with the farm, mostly managing the other workers, he’s really not sure what responsibilities to give him.

He also has to get everyone who works on the farm to sign similar NDAs, since they’re sure to recognize him. Of the eight people who work for him, only Logan tries to give him shit for it, and manages to grate on every one of Louis’s fraying nerves. 

“What,” he says, when he sees the paperwork Louis has brought for him. “What kind of commercialized bullshit are you trying to turn this farm into? Are we going to be on Springwatch or something? James never made us go through shit like this.”

“You can sign the NDA or you can leave my property for the foreseeable future,” Louis says through gritted teeth. 

Logan does sign it. He laughs in Louis’s face when Louis tells him why. If something about Prince Harry staying with them  _ does _ get out to the press, Louis is pretty sure he knows where the leak will come from.

At least everyone else is nicer, even rather excited about him coming. Greg is a proper fanboy about it, and Steve offers to be part of the welcome committee (which Louis turns him down for - Niall has still kept mum about  _ why _ Prince Harry needs to hide out but he’s not sure he’d be up for a big exciting welcome.

Louis’s house - his Great Uncle James’s house, as he still honestly thinks of it - is old and messy and still boasts Uncle James’s clutter in dark corners. There’s three bedrooms, two on the top floor and one on the bottom, but he’s using the one on the bottom floor as his study, so Prince Harry will have to deal with the smaller of the two upstairs bedrooms. 

He tries to tidy it - there’s a bed in the corner, a dresser, a table and not room for much else - but keeps thinking that this isn’t big enough. Not for the Prince of Freaking England. He’s going to hate it, will be out of here within a week for a real five star Bed and Breakfast or something. 

Especially when he learns he’ll have to share the bathroom with Louis. 

He spends a long time thinking about that, honestly. Prince Harry probably won’t last a week here. He’ll probably hate it. There’s no microwave and there’s no Keurig and none of the chairs at the dining room table match. Probably, Prince Harry will take one look and be on the first Uber back into town. 

When he texts Niall about these concerns, he just gets a lot of indiscernible emojis back. He’s not sure what they mean. 

But that first deposit hits his account the morning before Harry arrives, and even this alone should tide the farm over for a month, so at least there’s that.

— 

Prince Harry arrives at three in the afternoon with two rolling cases and a bag over his shoulder. Louis sees him through the front window and feels something in his stomach swoop.

Sure, there’s a reason he’s the darling of the British people. His strong jaw and plush lips and stark green eyes have gained him extra popularity from the very beginning, and Louis would be lying if he said he hadn’t collected a fair number of magazines dedicated to Harry when he was a teen figuring out that girls were  _ just sort of okay. _ The fact of the matter is Prince Harry is bloody gorgeous, and now he’s standing outside of Louis’s house in a flowery blouse and gray slacks and odd, bright yellow loafers that are already caked in mud from walking up the sorry excuse for pavement that looks like it was laid down pre-war. 

Louis’s stomach swoops and he honestly doesn’t know if it’s because he’s still kindling that teenage crush, or because he’s terribly embarrassed by the state of the farm and wants to push Prince Harry out the door, or because just a little part of him is terribly curious why he’s here at all, why someone so famous and well-off needs to hide out in the middle of the country - what could he have done that would possibly be so  _ terrible. _

Whatever the reason, he hurries over to open the door when Prince Harry knocks, taking one last desperate look around his messy front room and knowing it’s too late to do anything about it.

“Hi,” Louis says, swinging the door inward. 

_ Prince Harry is taller than him. _

Angus, the farm cat who  _ might _ be pregnant or might just be fat, growls at them from her spot underneath the front of the house.

“Um,” says Prince Harry. He’s got his lower lip between his teeth and stubble on his upper lip. There are bags under his eyes. “Are you Louis? Tomlinson?”

“That’s me,” Louis says, trying to remain professional. “Come on in, before the mosquitos follow you.”

Prince Harry does, struggling a bit to get his two large cases through the door. Louis wonders if he’s brought that much because he knows how pathetic Louis’s house is. Probably not a bad idea.

They shut the door and then there’s silence. It’s awkward. 

“Right,” says Louis. He sticks out his hand. “Louis. Welcome to my small, sorry excuse for a farm.”

Prince Harry shifts his shoulder bag so that he can shake Louis’s hand. “Call me Harry,” he says. “I thought it was rather nice, actually. You’ve got some lovely wild lavender growing out there.”

Louis had no idea. He’s not at all sure what that looks like.

“Huh,” he says. “I had no idea.”

Harry looks down at his shoes. “Should I… take these off?” he asks. “Only they’re a bit muddy.”

“I’m not bothered,” Louis says, before thinking that he probably should be. This is a prince after all. “I mean, you can keep them on if you want. I haven’t gotten a chance to sweep in… a while.”  _ or ever. _ “But either way! Let me take you up to your room.”

He helps with one of the cases, because the stairs are skinny and slanted and old. They fill up the room when they get there, and Louis is terribly embarrassed at offering Prince Harry this room at all. He should have just moved his study up here.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says. “It’s not the grandest place…”

“No, it’s absolutely perfect,” Harry says. “Really. Thank you so much, Louis. I, um. This is great.”

Louis frowns, looking over at him. “I get the feeling you’ve not been in a room this small in your whole life,” he says, because he has no filter.

Harry laughs, though. It’s a small laugh as he looks down at his shoes and moves his cases so that they’re all lined up. “I’ve been in plenty of small spaces,” he says. “Just last week I hid out in a broom closet so that my sister couldn’t find me to yell at me.”

Oh right. Princess Gemma. The heir to the throne. Good times. Ha.

“Well technically this house doesn’t even  _ have _ a broom closet,” Louis says (his brooms are all in the coat closet). “So you’ll have to find a new place to hide.”

That only gets a small smile from Harry. “I think I’ll survive.”

The awkward silence comes again, which is  _ terrible _ because Louis is a loud sort of person and should have no problems filling that silence. “Well, I’ll let you get settled in,” he says. Bath is right next door, of course, and my room is next to that. Feel free to have a snoop around, I’ll be downstairs. Come find me if you want more of an official tour.”

He slips out before Harry can say more than a thank you, feeling his face heat up as he goes down the stairs. Dear lord he’s too old to make awkward conversation with cute boys.

— 

The Prince -  _ just Harry _ as he asks to be called - is quieter than Louis expected him to be. He’s polite and pigeon toed and his voice is low and gets lost in the wind when Louis starts giving him a tour of the farm.

_ Prince Harry _ is a celebrity, really. Probably just about anyone in England can recognize him on sight. He’s a little awkward and is known for his jokes that constantly fall flat, but overall he’s known for having a bright and loud and bubbly personality. 

_ Just Harry _ is… quiet. Louis wonders whether this is how he always is when the cameras are off, or if it’s something else entirely. The reason he’s here, whatever that is.

He’s not really sure if he’s supposed to introduce Harry to everyone on the farm - of course he does all the introductions when he’s got someone new in and is giving them the tour, and of course they all know he’s coming at some point thanks to the NDAs everyone had to sign, but he figures Harry probably would like a bit of privacy. That’s why he’s here, isn’t it? So he skips straight to the one person on the farm that he relies on more than anyone else - pretty much the one  _ person _ he relies on most, besides maybe Niall.

“Liam!”

The big, only slightly creaky barn that houses their couple dozen cattle echoes as Louis leads Harry into it. “Liam! Take a break from whatever cow you’re wooing and come over here!”

Liam loves the cows. He has a passion for cows. Sure enough, a second later he pops up from among the cattle on the other end that are penned and waiting for pasture. “Hello!” he calls. “Over in a minute!”

Louis turns to Harry. “This is the best guy on the farm. He basically runs it, I just take care of the money. If you ever need anything and I’m not around, comes find Liam. Okay?”

Harry nods, eyes wide. He’s looking around the barn in fascination, and Louis is impressed he’s not even wrinkling his nose at the smell. 

“Right,” Liam says, having emerged from the cattle. “What’s up, Lou?” 

“Liam,” says Louis. “This is Harry. Harry, meet Liam.”

Liam, to his benefit, doesn’t miss a beat. Prince Harry stands in front of him and he doesn’t so much as stutter. Harry holds out his hand in a very formal greeting. Liam does an awkward smile and holds up both of his hands which seem to be caked in what Louis hopes is mud. “Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’d shake your hand, really, but I’ve just had a bit of a fall and I don’t think you want this.”

Harry smiles, putting his hand down. “Maybe not,” he says, sheepishly.

“Liam works with the cows, but he’s also the one who knows what’s going on all over the farm. Got a sense for that sort of thing,” Louis explains. Liam ducks his head, looking embarrassed.

“That’s very cool,” Harry says to Liam, looking like he genuinely believes it. “It can’t be easy, with all the people who work here and the different livestock and crops.”

Liam shrugs. Louis thinks he’s gone a bit red. “It’s not exactly a big farm -  _ no offence, Lou! - _ I mean, there’s only eight of us plus Louis here. I just like to know what’s going on.”

“Niall mentioned you wanted to help out a bit, and I want it known that you definitely don’t have to, but if you’re still interested, I’ll set Liam with the task of finding things for you to do.”

“Yes please,” Harry says. “That would be very nice, I’d really rather not lay around while everyone else here is doing hard work.”

“I’m sure we can find something for you to do,” Liam says, looking generally cheerful. “If nothing else, lambing season is coming up. If you’ve got a strong stomach it’s a fun thing to take part in.”

“It’s gross, is what he’s saying,” Louis says as Liam makes a sound of protest. “They’re cute once they’re clean but otherwise it’s like watching an  _ Alien _ movie.

“It is  _ not-” _

“Anyway, I think we’re done here. Come along, Harry, there’s more to see!”

Harry waves goodbye to Liam before following him out. They’ve already seen the chickens, a vague view of the sheep at the other end of the pasture, and the pigs. The only thing left is the rapeseed field on the opposite side of the road, and it’s not particularly impressive but Louis felt he might as well get the complete tour. 

“This is just a big boring yellow field, really,” he says by way of introduction. “But it’s pretty at least.” He spots Logan at the far end with the tractor and decides it’s about time to steer Harry back to the house. “Seriously, though, you are basically a paying guest so I want to point out that you really don’t have to do any work. You’re more than welcome to just laze around for days or weeks straight, I won’t take offence.”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “That’s very kind,” he says, “But I think it would… help. To have something to do. I didn’t really bring much with me, and I fear if I have nothing you’re going to come home one day to find all your books and DVDs alphabetized. If- if you can’t find work for me to do, of course, that’s perfectly fine. But if you could…”

“Oh there’s always stuff to do on a farm,” Louis says. “Don’t worry about that. Just give yourself a bit to get acclimated first, at least.”

He wants to ask Harry what it is he’s trying so hard to distract himself from, but he refrains. It’s probably not a helpful topic of conversation right now. Or any of his business.

When they get back to the house, Louis gives him the same talk that he gives his sisters when they come to town - anything in the refrigerator you can eat, but check there’s no mold, and do your dishes pretty please. He wonders if Harry’s ever done dishes before. He really should get a dishwasher.

Harry looks tired, so Louis excuses himself to his study - he has Farm Business to take care of anyway - and lets the poor guy adjust to his culture shock in peace.

— 

The first three days of having Harry around the house are a pleasant surprise.

When Louis comes downstairs in the morning, he finds Harry puttering around the little kitchen, making what looks like an omelette on the hob.

“Where did you find eggs?” Louis asks as he puts a hand up to smooth down his bedhead. Have to look presentable for the prince, after all.

Harry, apparently caught off guard, makes a sort of squeaky noise and flings the spatula from his hand. It barely avoids the burner. 

“Sorry!” Louis hastens to grab it (because he does only have  _ one _ spatula and it  _ is _ melt-able). “Didn’t mean to scare you!”

Harry turns to look at him and even in the dim kitchen light his face looks  _ very _ red. “No, no,” he says, one hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t’ve - I’m sorry, I should have asked first. I took a few from the chicken coop.”

“You-” Louis hands back the spatula. “You took them from the  _ chicken coop.” _

“I can pay for them, though,” Harry hastens. “It’s just you didn’t have much in the refrigerator, and if I ordered groceries to be delivered, they wouldn’t get here for a while yet anyway. But I shouldn’t’ve assumed!”

Louis can’t help it. He snorts. He starts laughing. “I’ve lived here for years,” he says, tears springing to his eyes. “And I have been  _ buying my own eggs this whole time.” _

Harry stops trying to flip the omelette. He turns to Louis, looking very concerned like he’s not sure if that’s funny or concerning. “Uh,” he hedges.

Louis tries to control his giggles. It’s very unprofessional. “Please,” he gets out. “Please, take as many eggs as you like. They are  _ literally _ ours.”

“Okay,” Harry says, still frowning. “Thank you. Would you- would you like an omelette? You can have this one, I can make another.”

“Nonsense,” Louis says, although it smells amazing. “You’re the guest, you absolutely shouldn’t be the one making me breakfast. I’d offer, if my cooking were any good.” He grabs a bruised banana out of the dwindling supply in the fruit bowl. “But I can put on extra hot water if you’d like tea.”

“I’m more of a coffee person,” Harry says, looking apologetic.

“Ah,” says Louis. “Sorry we don’t have a keurig.”

“It’s no issue!” Harry rushes to reassure, motioning to a mug on the counter (the only one Louis brought from his old house - it’s got a family portrait-style picture splashed across it of five university-age girls he’s never met doing weird yoga poses. He got it at a car boot sale as a kid). “I found some coffee filters and just sort of did a pour-over. My mum taught me how to do those when we went camping a few years ago.”

Harry’s mum taught him. The Queen of England taught Louis how to do pour-over coffee.

“Nice,” says Louis, choosing to be impressed rather than judging him for his taste in hot beverages.

Harry begins to say something else as he scoops the perfected omelette out of the pan, but almost immediately drops it on the kitchen floor.

“Ah,” he says instead.

After apologising profusely, he asks Louis if it would be okay to borrow more eggs. Of course Louis lets him.

That’s more or less how their interactions go for the rest of the day. Louis runs into Harry later when he’s making lunch, and then again when the sun is setting and the workers are going home. He’s fashioned his back living room (a later edition to the house anyway, and significantly larger than any of the other rooms) into a breakroom for them, but whenever he glances out his office window (which looks awkwardly into the breakroom, because when the added the extension apparently no one thought to  _ cover up the window) _ , he never sees Harry out there with the rest of them. He wonders if Harry really did go and find Liam like he said he wanted to, or if he’s bunking off work somewhere and just pretending to be useful.

Somehow, Louis doesn’t think Harry’s the type.

After dinner, Harry almost immediately goes to his room, although he does his dishes first (a pan, a plate and a fork because he managed to make a delicious-smelling pesto pasta dish of some kind). Louis doesn’t hear from him again until late in the night when he’s woken up to a loud bang, that he’s pretty sure is the sound of Harry hitting the sliding glass door with his knee on the way into (or out of) the shower. Louis has done it many times. 

The next day goes much like the first, except when Louis comes downstairs in the morning Harry is flipping an omelette while another one sits fresh on the plate next to him.

“Made you one,” Harry says quietly, not looking up from the pan. “Hope you don’t mind. I, uh, didn’t drop any eggs this time.”

“Of course I don’t,” Louis says, because dear lord he will  _ not _ say no to something that fluffy and delicious smelling  _ with a garnish on top. _ “Thank you,” he says. “I owe you.”

“You absolutely don’t,” Harry says, and it sounds more heartfelt than a conversation resulting from an omelette should.

While he only sees Harry briefly at lunch, and once again doesn’t spot him at all in the back room, when it’s dinner time they both end up in the kitchen together. Louis was just planning on microwaving some spag bol, but after drooling over the fancy cheese and tomato toastie Harry is making on the hob, Harry insists on making a second one for him. 

Harry likes to cook. This is what Louis is learning. And he  _ really  _ likes to share what he makes. 

“Do you want to, um, join me?” Louis awkwardly motions in the direction of the back room with the hand holding the plate of toastie. “I’m just going to go watch  _ Love Island. _ Know it’s trash telly and all, but…”

Harry smiles, and Louis loves the way his lips crook up just the littlest bit at the edges. “I mean, if I’m not intruding…”

“‘Course not,” Louis assures. “If I’m watching  _ First Dates _ Liam always wants to come in and watch. And Nick will watch, well, just about anything with me.”

“Okay,” Harry says. His voice is slow and lovely. “I’d love to then, yeah.”

Louis beams. “Excellent!” Better than the embarrassment of watching  _ Love Island _ alone anyway.

The living room has one large sectional in the middle that’s so plush Louis sinks right down into it. Harry somehow manages to perch so that he looks princely and posed, but Louis figures that can only last so long.

“It’s, um, it’s nice here,” Harry says at one point during a quieter moment in the show.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, looking over. “That’s good. I know we’re not, like, the most comfy sort of place. Not all the amenities you might be used to. Also definitely smells like cow in here.”

Harry shrugs. “I haven’t really noticed,” he says. “Well. I have noticed the cow. But you guys - the way you talk about them it seems like you’re all a big family or something. It’s nice, that’s all.”

Louis frowns. “That’s a nice way to think of it, especially when I feel like I want to bury one of them in the mud for being a jerk.”

Harry makes a sort of choked noise and Louis looks over to see him trying terribly hard to suppress a laugh. When he finally gets himself under control, he asks, “Is that why I’ve been told by Nick and Greg both to not go out into your fields?”

“Ah, you’ve met Nick and Greg, then,” Louis says. He giggles. “I mean, possibly, yes. But did Greg proper fanboy when he met you? I’m rather sorry I missed it.”

Louis’s rather glad he was looking at Harry when he asked that question, because he has the honour of watching Harry’s ears turn red. 

“I- well he was quite nice,” Harry says. “He did seem a bit… excited, I suppose. Nick seemed rather offended, honestly, and I hope it wasn’t at me-”

“Nick likes to act like he’s cool,” Louis reassures. “Probably beyond embarrassed at however Greg was acting. That’s why I like them together, they’re absolute fools.”

“Very lovely though,” Harry adds, thoughtfully. “And very cute pigs.”

Louis laughs. “If you say so,” he says. “I can’t say I’ve been out there in a while, but last I remembered they were quite a bit smelly and looked like they’d willingly trample me to death for a bit of extra feed.”

Harry shrugs. “Doesn’t mean they’re not cute,” he says.

— 

Louis still sort of wonders if Harry actually went to Liam to ask where he could help out, in part because every time he sees Harry, he still seems to be  _ dressed _ like a prince, in clothes that are sort of fancy and patterned and clearly not made for the working man, and the next day when he sees Liam in the back room around lunch, he takes advantage of the opportunity to ask.

“Oh yeah,” Liam says. “Every day, so far, and bright and early. I put him in charge of one of the two milking stations, figured it’s a pretty simple task.”

Louis frowns at him.

“What?” asks Liam, looking alarmed. “What’d I do?”

“Liam, when I inherited this farm and went around and figured out how everyone’s job worked, that was one of the most exhausting things I’ve ever done. You do realise that’s  _ Prince Harry.” _

Liam frowns. 

Louis stares at him.

“Wait,” says Liam.

“Oh Christ,” says Louis.

“That’s  _ who?” _

_ “Oh bloody Christ, Liam.” _

“Well you never said!”

“I had you sign a form!”

“Yeah, I have to sign things every time you write my paycheque! I didn’t think about it much!”

Louis puts his head in his hands.

“Right. Okay. Liam, your new friend Harry is Prince Harry. This is your official announcement.”

“My god,” Liam says in awe. “I’ve met the Prince of England. He’s milked my cows.”

“Yes he has,” Louis confirms.

“Oh no,” says Liam. “If he doesn’t like me he can legally kill me.”

“No, Liam.”

“Wait, should I give him something easier to do?”

“I mean…” Louis thinks. “If he’s not complaining I guess it would be weird to suddenly give him less. But definitely if he asks, give him, like, a brush or something. Make him official cow brusher.”

“Aw,” says Liam. “I love grooming.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You can do it together,” he says. “You weirdo.”

—

A whole week goes by in that fashion. Louis finds it a disturbingly easy schedule to fall into; breakfast with Harry, often dinner too, and if he’s lucky they might end up watching trash telly together at the end of the night. Harry still doesn’t open up much, he’s quieter after dinner than he is at breakfast, like he’s been right tired out, but he’s pleasant to be around and honestly Louis is  _ not _ objecting. 

Plus, Louis’s felt the stress absolutely melt off his shoulders with the arrival of that second cheque to his account halfway through that week. As much as he hates to admit it, he doesn’t even need to consider the idea of laying Logan off anymore.

—

Louis doesn’t get a newspaper delivered (because he’s not eighty years old). He’s also not generally one to browse through news apps. The news, as far as he’s concerned, is sensationalized and depressing and if anything really important in the world happens he figures someone will text him. 

So he probably would have never heard the reason why Harry was staying on his farm if not for the fact that he finds himself standing in line at Tesco for almost half an hour with a cart full of groceries and a dead phone. 

**_Prince of England Outs Duke of Wellington to Family, The World_ **

The newspaper sits on a display next to the check-out, and Louis feels like his heart is caught in his throat as he sees the blurry picture of Harry splashed across the front page just below the title. He grabs it out of the stand and flips it over.

_ The minds of the British people are still wheeling from the discovery last week that the Duke of Wellington, Sir Thomas, has been in a committed relationship with another man for several years now. The discovery comes from Prince Harry himself, who was seen at the opening of the new exclusive Club Antoinette apparently spilling the hot gossip to his - _

The column ends there, claiming the story continues on another page. With a shaky hand Louis puts the newspaper back, feeling sick. He doesn’t want to read the rest of the article. 

Harry is… He’s nice. He’s been around for almost two weeks, and he’s been nothing but kind. Gentle. Humble.

But- 

To out someone- to practically the whole world! Something inside of Louis, the churning bile in his stomach, is turning from shock to sadness to anger. Someone trusted Harry with one of their biggest secrets and he went and got it splashed across newspaper headlines.

How dare he.

Louis slams the boot closed on his groceries. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and finds Niall’s number in his contacts as he throws his car into reverse.

He listens to it ring as he leaves the city center, but hangs up when Niall’s voicemail message starts playing.

**Louis:** _Call me_ _  
_**Louis:** _Right now_

Why would Niall have sent him to Louis? Niall, one of the first people Louis came out to - right after his mum - in sixth form, after a month of tears and nights filled with the fear that people would abandon him?

He tries to put on music on the way home, but it all grates on his nerves and he ends up drowning in silence, speeding down the country lanes and stewing in his anger.

By the time he arrives back at the farmhouse he’s at least composed himself a little. He’s not going to go in guns blazing and just have it out with Harry, as much as he might want to. Harry is  _ literally _ paying to be there, and while that doesn’t mean Louis has to be nice to him, it does mean he really  _ shouldn’t  _ go about confronting the Prince of England on the reason he ran away from home. 

Unlocking the front door, he hauls his bags of groceries inside, likely bruising the bananas (sue him, he didn’t want to have to take two trips). 

He treks in past the messy front room and drops all of the bags on the kitchen counter. A lot of what he bought this time around is spices and seasonings and other, flavourful things, bought with the idea that Harry might like to use it in his dishes. He was so excited, an hour ago, looking through the shelves at Tesco. Now, as he’s pulling them out of the bags to put away, he feels like throwing some of them out the window. 

As soon as he’s having that thought, though, the door to the back room opens and Prince Harry himself is walking through it.

He’s wearing the same sort of ensemble he wears every day - those weird yellow loafers, grey pressed pants, and an odd blue and red tunic- _ thing _ that Louis couldn’t imagine ever trying on, draped over his shoulders, and a gold headband of some kind holding his curls out of his face. Generally Louis would smile a little at how odd he’s dressed and keep his snarky comments to himself. Today, he barely refrains from making a jab at how ridiculous and impractically he’s dressed. Prince Harry does know this is a  _ farm, _ right? Does he think that he looks fancy? He looks ridiculous.

“Hey,” says Prince Harry. He smiles, soft and tired.

Louis determinedly looks down at the bags he’s putting away. 

“Did you get groceries?”

“Clearly,” Louis snaps, and then stops himself. “I’m- going to finish putting these away later.”

He goes to leave - just doesn’t want to be in the same room as Prince Harry right now, knows he’ll say something he shouldn’t.

“Oh, do you want me to?” Prince Harry asks. “I can help, really, it’d be no-”

“Fine, whatever,” Louis says, not even glancing at the prince as he leaves the room. He just- he needs to get out of there.

He sequesters himself in his office, burying himself in work that’s unimportant. He hopes Prince Harry  _ did _ put the groceries away, because otherwise he’ll have a lot of perishables to throw out. 

In one moment of weakness he googles  _ Prince Harry, _ and wonders a bit why he didn’t do that a week ago, but it brings up articles upon articles about the Duke of Wellington and how betrayed he must feel, and Louis forces himself to close out of the window before he reads them and feels even worse. 

God, no wonder the prince was looking for somewhere to hide. Louis would be too after destroying someone’s life like that.

He tries to turn his anger into productive work, but all it really does is make him tired, until he ends up drifting off at his desk while researching the benefits of outdoor milking stations. His dreams are vague and unpleasant, set with a dark grey backdrop and the churning feeling in his stomach that something is terribly wrong as he runs downhill, trying to get to the workers on his farm to warn them about-  _ something. _ When he wakes, it’s dark outside and the smell of garlic and basil is sifting in under the door.

He doesn’t come out until long after he hears Harry’s footsteps echo away and up the stairs.

— 

Niall doesn’t call Louis back until after he’s gone to sleep, so when he wakes up in the morning it’s with two missed calls and a single text that reads  _ “??? did u die” _ which Louis doesn’t deign to answer. He does call Niall back to see if he will pick up, and of course he doesn’t, so Louis shoots off a quick  _ “just fucking call me,” _ before getting up and heading into the loo to brush his teeth.

He feels a little calmer than yesterday, more rational, and he doesn’t want to see Prince Harry any more today than yesterday, but at least he’s mature enough not to hide in his office like yesterday. 

Plus, he’s really hungry, and thinking back on it he definitely didn’t eat dinner last night. 

He runs into Prince Harry in the kitchen again, and it’s only begun to occur to him that maybe the prince is setting an alarm, and that’s why this keeps happening. 

“Oh, hello,” says Prince Harry. “I, um. I made breakfast burritos, since you bought tortillas yesterday. There’s yours if you, um. Want it.” He looks nervous, shifting which foot he’s leaning on. “Are you feeling better? After… yesterday?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Louis says. “I’d really rather not talk. Just. In general.” He glances up at Prince Harry, just in time to see his face fall. “Sorry.”

He is sorry, but he also knows he’d say something about  _ it _ if they kept going.

“Oh,” says the prince. “Right. Um. I can- I’ll go.”

He takes one of the burritos and scurries out the door to the back room. He’s left the dirty pan still on the stove. 

Louis feels guilt curl in his stomach. He’s not sure if he feels justified in saying that or not. He doesn’t eat the burrito, though, feeling too bad to take advantage of the prince like that. He puts it in the refrigerator and instead pours himself a bowl of Coco Pops.

— 

Louis doesn’t see the prince at all for the rest of the day. Even when he’s in the kitchen at dinner time, he never reappears, and he never seems to be in the back room when Louis glances in. Liam gives him a friendly wave once, and Greg and Nick come in briefly to talk about some heavily pregnant sows that are going to pop any moment, but no sign of Prince Harry. 

With the prince out of his line of sight, Louis’s thoughts turn from guilt back to anger, and then somewhere in between. He’s clearly avoiding Louis, so he feels rather bad, but also he’s ruined someone’s life, so he really shouldn’t feel bad at all.

A few texts arrive from Niall in the late evening.

**Niall:** _ Working overnight _ __  
**Niall:** _ Literally cant call rn _ _  
_ **Niall:** __ If something’s wrong like Harry’s in danger pls call 999 im literally all the way in London I can do nothing

**Niall:** _He’s okay though, right??_ _  
_**Niall:** _Tell him to stay off the internet he gets sad_

**Louis:** _ hes fine _

Louis is not his minder, and he’s not going to go make sure the prince is  _ staying off the internet,  _ he’s not five years old. 

He plugs his phone into the charger and puts it up on the side table before rolling over and burying himself in his covers. The spring is still in that stage where it’s downright freezing at night, and Louis bitterly hates the cold.

He’s briefly awakened later that night at some point by by that  _ bang _ and  _ clatter clatter clatter _ from what is likely Harry tripping into the shower door, but he doesn’t think much of it before going back to sleep to the sound of the water rushing through the pipes between his room and the bath.

— 

Niall finally calls him back at eleven the next morning.

_ “Alright Lou, is the farm on fire? Is Harry stuck down a well?” _

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s been leaning more toward guilt than anger today, his mood starting to settle a little. He feels cold inside. “I was in town getting the weekly shop,” he says. “And I saw the article. The reason, I assume, that he’s gone into hiding.”

_ “Ah,” _ says Niall.

“What the fuck, man?” Louis asks. “Like, what- why did you send him to  _ me? _ Didn’t you think I’d take it a little  _ personally?” _

_ “Yeah,” _ says Niall.  _ “I did, actually. You haven’t said anything about it to him, have you? I specifically told him if I found out he had been googling his name I’d come down there myself to take his laptop away, and I was serious about that.” _

“How the fuck should I know?” Louis asks, frustration creeping into his tone. “I mean, I’ve barely seen him. I don’t really  _ want _ to see him, at this point. He  _ outed  _ someone, Niall! And not just a nobody, that’s got to have hurt that guy and his boyfriend a lot!”

_ “You don’t know the whole story,”  _ Niall says, and Louis is rather taken off guard by how serious he suddenly sounds.  _ “You don’t even know  _ half _ the story, and it’s not at all what you would think it is, okay? I remember what you were like when you first came out, Lou, I wouldn’t send him to you if he had actually done that.” _

“Then what  _ is  _ the story, Niall?” Louis asks. He lays his head down on his desk. This conversation is making him tired.

_ “I can’t tell you that.” _

“I signed that NDA.”

_ “This isn’t an NDA thing, this is a personal thing. You’ve gotta ask Harry, and if he’s comfortable he’ll share with you. Don’t pressure him either. Just trust me, he’s really and truly  _ not _ the bad guy in this scenario.” _

Louis growls. “You’re infuriating,” he says. “Fine. I’ll ask him. Once I can find him, that is, because I haven’t seen him in over a day at this point, as he’s  _ definitely  _ avoiding me.”

_ “What I’m hearing is that you’ve  _ lost _ the Prince,”  _ Niall says.  _ “Louis. Is there a prince loose among your sheep?” _

“There’d better not be,” Louis says, inadvertently cracking a smile. “I couldn’t pay that dry-cleaning bill.”

_ “You don’t think the palace has people on retainer for that?” _ Niall laughs, that manic laugh of his that Louis has heard since they were in primary together.  _ “Lou, you don’t even know the extent that the royal family has. It’s fucking insane here.” _

“And at some point you’ll have to actually come hang out with me and tell me all those secrets,” Louis says. “Now that I know your secret and have somewhat forgiven you for keeping it from me.”

_ “No you haven’t, you hold a grudge like nobody’s business.” _ Niall laughs again. 

“And anyway, if the royal family has so many secrets, why did he choose to come here?” Louis asks. He  _ has  _ been thinking about that a bit. “I assume there are plenty of places owned by the royal family that no one knows about. Nice ski resorts in the alps or whatever. Somewhere where he can get snowed in for a few weeks, maybe.”

_ “Oh yeah, definitely,” _ Niall confirms.  _ “So many great places, you should  _ see _ their home in the south of France. But Harry specifically requested somewhere where the rest of the royal family wouldn’t come looking for him, so. Those were more or less out of the picture. He thought your farm sounded pretty perfect.” _

Louis doesn’t feel as good about that. 

_ “Listen, Lou, I haven’t slept in nearly forty hours, but I just got home and I’m about to faceplant into my bed, so I’m hanging up on you. Talk to Harry. Don’t do anything stupid.” _

“When have I  _ ever _ done anything stupid?”

_ “When you turned fifteen and decided to drink fifteen pints to celebrate.” _

“Yeah but I didn’t  _ do _ it-”

_ “Because you nearly chucked it after the second one. It wasn’t lack of trying.” _ Niall cackles again.  _ “Bye Lou, I’m going to be unconscious for at least twelve hours.” _

“See you, Niall,” Louis says, hanging up and wiping the screen of his phone (it always gets so  _ greasy _ after phone calls, maybe Louis should drink more water).

Okay, so… He should talk to Harry. He should trust Niall, and not think about that article,  and talk to Harry.

Now he just needs to  _ find _ Harry.

—

Finding Harry isn’t easy. 

He doesn’t appear for lunch, which Louis isn’t particularly surprised by, and so after Louis is done eating he ventures out back himself.

He doesn’t get the chance to be out in the fields much, too preoccupied with everything else that running the farm entails, and the wind blows about him smelling faintly of manure but also of that sort of cold sweetness that is springtime. 

He’s planning on hiking it over to where the cows are grazing to see if he can find Liam, but he doesn’t make it that far. Just as he’s walking past the pigs, Nick emerges from the pig parlour, followed close after by Greg.

“Louis!” Nick calls.

_ Shit, _ thinks Louis. 

“Louiiiiiis,” Greg calls.

_ Damn, _ thinks Louis.

He loves Nick and Greg, and is always up for a laugh, but they do tend to spend a long time talking without anything really getting said and he  _ does _ have things to do.

“Louis, you have  _ got _ to come see the new piglets,” Greg says, grinning. “One of them bit Nick!”

“It was horrible,” says Nick. “Right little terror, I thought its mum was about to have a go at me.”

“Oh she definitely was,” says Greg. “You know old Henrietta, she’s raised half this barn and thinks she owns the lot.”

“Right…” says Louis. “Unfortunately guys I am actually on my way to Liam, so unless there’s something you were actually needing me for - not that I’m not concerned by your near pig mauling…”

“Oh yes,” says Nick. “We actually wanted to talk to you about the west end of the parlour, Greg thinks there’s a family of stoats and honestly we were hoping that you could take a look-”

“Because Nick is too chickenshit to get near them, and I’m- um. Allergic.”

“He’s not.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “You babies. I’ll take a look.” He’ll probably just get Liam to patch any holes in the back of the parlour. Stoats don’t eat pigs, so at least in this part of the farm they’re just a nuisance, although if they’re not dealt with they’ll get into the chickens before too long.

After a decently hard look as Nick and Greg loom behind him and bicker, Louis determines that what they actually saw was a family of mice. “Tiniest stoats I’ve ever seen,” he says with a deadpan look in their direction. Briefly, Nick and Greg look ashamed. It doesn’t last long.

By the time he actually leaves, he has to steel himself all over again in talking to Harry. He can see a number of cows out in the field, but he’s not sure where he’ll find Liam or Harry. It’s early enough they likely haven’t started afternoon milking yet, but he decides to veer toward the milking parlour on the off chance. 

The milking parlour is all but deserted, cavernous and chilly without the direct sunlight. Louis spots Liam fairly easily, as he’s speaking some sort of kind words to a nursing cow and her young calf.

“Hello, Lou,” Liam says, glancing up with surprise when Louis walks up. “Here to see Glinda and Francine?”

“Not at all,” Louis says. “No offence to Glinda and Francine, of course. I’m here for Harry, actually, have you seen him?”

“Sure I have,” Liam says. Glinda (presumably) lets out a mighty  _ moo _ and swings her head to level Liam with a stare and he laughs, reaching up to scratch he behind her large, twitching ears. “Haven’t we, girl?”  

Louis smiles, but it feels rather strained. He’d really like to actually  _ talk _ to Harry… at some point today.

“Anyway, I thought he’d actually gone off toward the house,” Liam continues after a beat. “About half an hour ago actually. That’s when he normally grabs some lunch.”

Shit. Did Louis miss him then? Did he walk right by while Louis was disturbing the mice in the pig parlour?

“Thanks, Liam. I’ll have to check back that way then.”

“‘Course, no problem, Lou.” Liam frowns, leveling Louis with a look. “Is everything okay? He’s seemed off the last couple days.”

“Dunno,” Louis says, measuring the weight of his words. “I’ll have to go see, won’t I?”

It’s not an answer and Liam gives him a look that makes it clear he sees right through Louis’s bullshit. “Alright,” he says. “Just take it easy on him.”

_ Take it easy on him. _ That’s what Niall said. Does Harry have everyone wrapped around his finger? Is that it?

— 

Louis is tramping off across the increasingly muddy field - it’s begun misting down rain, making Louis regret his clothing choices. He’s headed back toward the house, although it feels less likely all the time that Harry is there. 

_ “Oi, Louis!” _

And just like that, Louis can feel a migraine starting.

“Yes,  _ hello _ Logan,” Louis says, gritting his teeth and turning to face him.”I’m really in a hurry, so if you could make whatever it is quick-”

“I need to talk to you about how much longer I’m going to have to put up with that fucking prick of a prince getting in my way.”

Louis rubs his face. “First of all, you can’t call him that, he’s literally second in line to the throne. What do you mean  _ getting in your way? _ I sincerely doubt he’s out running in front of your tractors.”

“He fucking is, mate!” Logan gestures wildly in the vague direction of the barn where the tractors are kept. “Two days in a row I’ve walked in to find him blocking the  _ fucking _ tractors because he apparently decided to take a  _ bloody _ nap in my barn. I can’t get my job done because he’s in my fucking way and I want him gone!”

“Oh just sod off,” Louis groans. “He’s the fucking prince of England, Logan, so he can do what he fucking  _ wants, _ and honestly the money I’ve gotten from him staying here is about the only reason I haven’t kicked you to the kerb yet, but you’re on thin ice right now, so walk it off and drink some sleepy time tea, and I’m going to pretend you’re not an arse for all of ten minutes so maybe you’ll still have a job by tomorrow.” Louis shakes his head. “Don’t know why Uncle James kept you around, honestly. I assume he owed your mum some pretty massive favours.”

Logan’s mouth is hanging open. He looks stunned. Good.

“You know what? You can have the afternoon off. Go find Shawn and see if he’ll cover the rest of your shift once he’s done with the lambs.”

“What-” Logan splutters. “You can’t just-”

“I fucking can,” Louis says, feeling incredibly satisfied. “Off you go, then.” And he walks right by Logan, heading for the mustard yellow field on the other side of the road, and the barn that sits at the edge of it. 

So Harry’s in the tractor barn, then. Is that where he’s been hiding the last few days? Or has he spent most of his time since arriving skiving off there?

No, Louis corrects himself as he reaches the door of the barn. Logan said it was only the last two days. He doesn’t want to start just accusing harry of avoiding things - things he wasn’t ever required to do in the first place. Trust Niall. Talk to Harry first. 

He pushes open the door - the one that always squeaks and rattles and Louis really  _ should _ do something about that - and inhales the smell of old machinery and rust and dirt. The machines they actually use sit in relatively good condition at the front of the barn, and the further back they go, the more dilapidated they get. No farmer will buy an old rust bucket of a trailer, but no self respecting farmer seems keen on getting rid of theirs either.

Louis’s not too keen on going deep into the barn - he’s not quite gotten that farmer’s constitution yet where things like spiders and cobwebs don’t faze him - but Harry doesn’t seem to be anywhere among the front of the vehicles.

“Hello?” Louis calls, his voice echoing. “Harry? Are you here?”

He’s met with only echoing silence for a moment and wonders if he’s missed him again, but then a distinct  _ creeeeak _ of metal re-settling sounds from the far right side, and Louis figures that’s a pretty good shot.

He slides his phone out of his back pocket because the flickering fluorescents hanging from the rafters do absolute  _ shit _ in here, clicks on the flashlight app and starts making his way past old trailers and dilapidated engines that originally belonged to who-knows-what piece of machinery.

“Harry?” he calls again. “I just need to talk to you - get some things straightened out.”

He doesn’t find him until almost the very back of the barn, the light from his phone causing formidable shadows to dance across the wall until finally it lands on the huddled form of Harry, the prince of England, sitting below an ancient harvester.

He’s hunched over, knees drawn up, and he’s cradling one arm in the other. There’s mud on the knees of his trousers and mud on his shoes and what looks like mud in his hair. The circlet of gold leaves that he wears in his hair are about the only thing that look prim and orderly.

Louis frowns, takes in the way Harry’s got one arm wrapped around the other. “Are you hurt?” he asks, bending down and perching with his bum on his heels.

“You read the articles, didn’t you?” Harry croaks, and his eyes are red. Louis sees that now. “That’s why you didn’t want to talk to me, right?”

Lough pauses and then sighs. “Yeah,” he says, and he can see the way Harry curls his shoulders up, doesn’t meet his eyes. “I was fucking pissed,” he continues, because he can already feel the fight draining out of him but he needs to know the truth. “But Niall says I should talk to you. And  _ Liam _ says I should talk to you. So here I am, talking to you.”

“It-” Harry stutters and wipes at his eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that. I didn’t want them to- to write it.”

“Isn’t that what the press does?” Louis asks. He maneuvers so that he’s sitting on the cold concrete. “They write what people say. You were the one who got  _ drunk _ and  _ outed-” _

“I didn’t!” Harry wails  _ (proper _ wails). “You have to understand I- I would never! I was drunk!”

“That’s no excuse-” Louis snaps.

“No, but  _ I-I didn’t! Louis, I didn’t say anything!” _

Louis pauses. “You- what?”

Harry sniffs. “I was drunk,” he says. “And there weren’t supposed to be press there at all, and I was with my- my  _ friend _ and we thought we were  _ alone _ and-”

“You didn’t think anyone would overhear?” Louis asks. That’s… well, that’s more understandable at least.

_ “No,” _ Harry shakes his head rather furiously. “No, you don’t  _ get _ it I- they were going to out  _ me.” _

As the words truly sink in, Louis watches Harry crumple, put both hands up to his face and scrub at his eyes, like he could wash away the wretched feeling as a sob rips through him. 

“I didn’t wa-want to-” he chokes out, and Louis feels his heart begin to break anew. “I  _ didn’t _ out him— you have to- to believe me. They— bargained. With the press. To keep my secret they just- they decided I was worth  _ m-more than him, I- I-” _

Harry’s breathing too frantically, crying, not able to get any more words out. Louis scrambles forward onto his knees. He knows it’s inappropriate, but this isn’t the Prince of England in front of him, this is Harry - and he’s never seen anyone more in need of comfort than Harry right now.

“Hey,” Louis murmurs, wrapping his arms around Harry, trying anchor him in some way. “It’s okay. Shhhh, you don’t need to keep going. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry for a lot of things.

Harry melts into him, eventually. Sags against him and his sobs run into ragged, hiccuping breaths. 

“You’re okay,” Louis says, again and again, on the damp floor in the back of the barn with the Prince of England in his arms. “You’re okay. I’m sorry. You’re okay.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Harry croaks eventually. He’s dampened Louis’s jumper with tears. “I would never have done that to him, I swear. I didn’t know what they’d negotiated with the press until it was too late.”

Louis squeezes Harry tighter in his arms, because he doesn’t know what else to do. “I’m sorry,” he says again.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says. “I’m going to be sorry for the rest of my life.”

Louis frowns. “You know- that’s not your fault. You know that, right?”

“It is my fault,” Harry says quietly. “I shouldn’t have been drunk. I should have- I should have been more careful. We shouldn’t have gone outside the palace at all-”

“You didn’t out him, though,” Louis cuts in.

“But it’s my  _ fault-” _

“No.” Louis pulls back until he can make eye contact with Harry. “Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have been drunk, but you said the press wasn’t supposed to be there. And you  _ didn’t out him. _ You didn’t do that, Love. You might have done things you would have regretted later, but that’s not one of them.”

Harry shakes his head. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“They shouldn’t have done that to him,” Louis says. “But that wasn’t you.”

Harry just shakes his head again. “I knew - as soon as you started acting different I knew you’d found out.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis says again. “I should have asked you for an explanation.” He rubs a hand up and down Harry’s back. “You’ve been avoiding me, right?”

Harry visibly swallows. “I just- didn’t want you to be angry with me. You’re so nice and you let me live here and work on your farm and I- I almost forgot sometimes. Why I came here.”

“Why did you?” Louis thinks back to the same question that’s plagued him since Harry arrived. “You could go anywhere in the world to be alone, why choose a dusty old farm like mine?”

“I-” Harry bites his cheek. “Needed to be somewhere busy. I couldn’t just go sit around in a house somewhere and wait for it to ‘blow over’ like everyone kept telling me to, because I couldn’t stop  _ thinking _ about what I’d done. I needed somewhere where I could- could  _ do _ something. Be useful.”

“And Liam put you on about the most demanding position we have,” Louis says, thinking back. The cows are milked three times a day and even with all the technological advancements in the world (which Louis certainly doesn’t have access to), getting them in and out and hooked up and let loose again, not to mention the more fussy ones… 

Harry barks out a wet laugh. “They’re all adorable,” he says. “Never met an animal with such long eyelashes. And tongues.”

“And the need to graze on the neighbour’s pasteurs.”

Harry’s tentative smile drops suddenly. “Oh, I should, um- it’s actually probably time for me to get back. I don’t want to keep Liam waiting, I told him I’d help him get the milking parlour cleaned before they came back for the afternoon milking.”

Harry goes to stand, but Louis notices the way he’s still hugging one arm to his chest. “Stop,” he says. 

Harry flinches.

“What’d you do?” Louis asks getting back to his feet and motioning at Harry’s arm. 

“I-” Harry’s demeanour changes back to the scared boy he was not fifteen minutes ago. “Nothing, um-”

“Did Logan do that? Because I am  _ not _ afraid to murder him.”

“No!” Harry’s eyes grow wide. “I did! Or, well, I think it was Beatrice. She tried to kick me a few days ago and I mostly avoided it- I’m fine, really!” He doesn’t attempt to move his arm from the position it’s in, though.

“Bull,” Louis says. “You’re hurt.”

“M-maybe, but—”

Louis does something  _ very  _ brazen, and pulls up the sleeve of Harry’s shirt. Purple and red bruises bloom down his arm and Louis wants to kick himself. If Harry hadn’t spent the last few days hiding from him, maybe he would have noticed earlier. 

Gently, he pulls the sleeve back down Harry’s arm. “You’re taking a leave of absence,” he tells Harry.

“No, I’m really fine-”

“If Liam had bruises like that I might let him get away with it, but Liam also is the only person who really knows how this farm works and also he is  _ super _ buff so I’m pretty sure if he needed to he could punch a horse. You, however, I’m pretty sure haven’t had anything to eat since at least seven this morning, and I’m not entirely sure you haven’t fractured something. You’re taking a leave of absence, and we’re going to figure out something more suitable.”

“I can handle it-”

“Shush. Come on, we’re going to go tell Liam.”

He herds Harry through the barn, back into the light that has both of them blinking like they haven’t seen the sun in ages. It’s mostly stopped raining, inasmuch as it  _ feels _ wet outside but there doesn’t seem to be actual raindrops appearing. 

“Louis!” 

Honestly, can Louis  _ ever _ get all the way across his farm without someone coming up to distract him?

Shawn is just crossing the road toward them, grinning like a lunatic. “Logan is fucking pissed, what did you say to him?”

“Just told him the truth,” Louis says. He really shouldn’t gossip about his own workers. “...That he’s an arsehole and I don’t like him, more or less.”

Shawn laughs, loud and long. “Shit, that’s priceless. Good for you!”

When Shawn continues on, Louis looks over at Harry and sees he’s not cradling his arm anymore. “You’re like a cat.”

“I’m what?” Harry asks, looking genuinely shocked.

“You don’t want to show people that you’re hurt. And you hide in a barn when you’re scared.”

Harry looks concerned.

“We’re going to have to work on that,” Louis continues. “Because as much as I love that it pisses Logan off, I’m a little worried that you’re going to get buried under an avalanche of old machinery.” As they hike their way up the hill to the parlour, he tilts his head to look at Harry. “So no more hiding at least, got that? I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about what I read, please make me omelettes again.”

Harry blinks owlishly at Louis before nodding, looking a bit like he’s going to cry again. “Okay.”

“Good,” says Louis. “Oi! Liam!”

Liam, right outside the door to the milking parlour, looks up. “Hello!” he calls cheerfully, ever cheerfully.

“I’m giving Harry the week off!” Louis calls. “Now you’ve gotta do your job again!”

“Okay!” Liam calls back, looking like he doesn’t mind that one bit. “Feel better, Harry! Or congratulations! Or sorry to hear that, I’m not really sure!”

“Right,” Louis says, turning back to Harry. “You’re going to get food, and then I’m going to introduce you to your one and only job for the foreseeable future.” He pauses as he waits for that great look of wonder and confusion to grace Harry’s face. “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”

— 

Harry is still a little nervous, a little jumpy, but he insists on making lunch for both of them, and Louis couldn’t possibly object to that, not really. Which is how they end up eating the most delicious ploughman’s lunch as Louis monologues about anything - the animals, his family, his least favourite books - to keep Harry entertained and distracted.

“Okay,” he says eventually. “You ready for your new job?”

Harry nods, looking only a little dubious. Louis grins and circles his hand gently around Harry’s good wrist (because the boy clearly needs physical touch right now, the way he lights up whenever Louis gets close). “Come on.”

He leads Harry out the rarely-used front door and down the steps, before turning and crouching down to look at the base of the house.

Harry follows, looking confused, and Louis points to the pitch black hole where the siding at the bottom of the house has been stripped away, probably years ago now.

He makes a low whistle, more like a tea kettle than a real whistle, and only has to do it for about a minute before two golden eyes blink at him in the darkness. Harry gasps and Louis’s whistle chokes off into a laugh.

“This is Angus.”

Angus growls. 

“Oh,” says Harry, looking with concern at the darkness, and then at Louis.

“Angus is very fat,” Louis says.

Angus continues to growl.

“I  _ think _ it’s because she’s  _ very _ pregnant.”

_ “She?” _ asks Harry, perking up. “She’s  _ pregnant?” _

“I need you to gain her trust,” Louis tells him, trying to sound serious. “So that by the time she has her kittens, she has them inside the house where they can be safe.”

There’s nothing unsafe about Angus having her kittens outside, really. She’s lived under the house and around the various farm buildings for a while and seems perfectly happy but, well. Louis thinks it’s a stroke of genius.

“We’ll have to to get actual cat food and treats and such. Until then I think you can use eggs. I hear cats love scrambled eggs.”

Harry has  _ stars in his eyes. _ “Yeah,” he says. “I, um. I can definitely do that.” 

He looks so happy Louis could about cry. He wants Harry to be happy like this all the time.

“It’s a very serious job, mind you,” he tells Harry. “Very serious and important.”

“Can I get her a cat tree?” Harry asks, already getting down on his knees to see if he can get a better view of Angus.

Angus growls again. 

“You can get her anything you want,” Louis says. “Go ahead and spoil her rotten.”

— — — 

The palace is huge and imposing, and even though he’s grown up looking at pictures of it in history class, and seeing it in those documentaries his mum is so obsessed with, actually walking up to the gate with guards on horseback towering over him, the vast expanse of Buckingham Palace looming over him is incredibly daunting.

“Are we actually going to go in? Or should I just phone your boy and let him know you’re stuck…  _ on the steps of the palace?” _

Louis scoffs. “Did you just quote  _ Into the Woods _ at me?”

“I did what I had to,” Niall says. “Now come on, hup hup! We’ve got places to go! You’ve got a boy to snog in the royal broom closet!”

“Yes yes,” Louis rolls his eyes. “Fine, you’ve made your point. Let me just—” he fishes his phone from his back pocket and turns his back to the gate. “Need to send a selfie to my mum first though, she’ll love this.”

The phone makes a shutter noise, and Louis sends off a picture of himself and about half of Niall’s face to the family group chat. “Alright fine, let’s go.”

Niall motions to one of the guards and the gate swings inward.

— 

“Louis!”

Louis lets out an  _ “oof” _ as, just inside the ornate entranceway, Harry barrels into him.

“I didn’t tell you what time we would get here! Have you been waiting here the whole time? Louis asks, fondly ruffling Harry’s hair as Harry nuzzles into his neck and squeezes his long spaghetti limbs around Louis’s middle.

Harry laughs. “No, I just got your selfie and ran down!”

Oh right. Louis’s mum had added Harry to the family group chat last week. 

“Missed you,” Harry murmurs into his hair.

“Missed you too, you big koala.”

“Okay, you guys are gross and I’m going to need to find a bin to vomit into if you go any further.”

Harry giggles and leans back. “Come on!” he says, grasping Louis’s hand. “Angus has missed you terribly, and all her kittens are getting into all sorts of nonsense.”

He pulls Louis behind him as he ascends the stairs, and Louis marvels in how  _ alive _ Harry looks. He was so scared initially when he finally decided to return to the palace, to the world of responsibility. It’s been three months since then, which means it’s been three months and three weeks since Louis had tentatively kissed him over veggie omelettes and tea, and asked him if he would ever want to maybe, possibly, if this wasn’t too inappropriate, want to have dinner together sometime. 

(They had dinner together all the time. Louis had to clarify that this would be different. There would be candles. Maybe they could hold hands.)

Niall drops off behind them at some point, because he doesn’t follow them into Harry’s quarters. Harry pulls him into a room that looks like it’s been fully redesigned for Angus and her children, and when he grabs her off of where she had been sleeping peacefully on a cat tree, she only growls at him a little before apparently giving into her fate.

“She missed you,” Harry says. “Very much.”

Louis sincerely doubts that.

“I missed her too,” he says. “Do you think she’d like me to visit more often?”

Angus looks at him with dead eyes.

“I think she would,” Harry says, smiling softly.

“Well, I think that could be arranged,” Louis says. Harry plops Angus back onto her cat perch and Louis quickly finds himself in Harry’s arms again.

“Any time you want, Prince,” Louis says. “I’ve dropped everything in my life once to get a farm, and I’d drop it all again for you. Liam basically runs it anyway.”

Harry kisses him, and Louis kisses back. 

“Maybe sometime after you meet my mum,” he says.

“The  _ queen?” _ Louis squeaks, feeling like he had not fully thought this through before. 

“She’s in her quarters, let’s go see her!” Harry says.

“Um,” says Louis.

But Harry is already pulling him along, and Louis goes willingly. Because he loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ...please be gentle with your comments. Leave a kudos and I'll send a wish through the stars for you. 
> 
> [LondonFoginaCup](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com) on tumblr, fic post [here](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/post/179699225779/a-light-illuminated-calling-you-home)


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